Dying. It’s what we do these days.
We’ve known about dying for most of our lives. We’ve known that animals die, that people die, that dearest loved ones die. It’s something we know, but manage not to feel most days, most of the time.
We’ve known about death ever since Bambi was read aloud to us in third grade. And ever since our parents went off to a funeral, leaving us behind to wonder what it was about death that we children were not allowed to see up close.
Death is. That has been clear to us since we cried for Bambi and his mother.
But, most of the time, we keep death and dying tucked out of sight, inviting it to show its face from time to time in the safety of a tear jerker: “Love Story” or “Romeo and Juliet.”
A Partner Lost
But sometimes death, the fact of it, is not so easily banished, as happened to me with Jon’s passing a year ago today. I lost my partner in life, my world turned upside down, and that upside-downness has created in me an awareness of death’s reality, a reality that refuses to be banished to the far reaches of my psyche. It’s there every day, right next to me.
Jon died, and in recent weeks I’ve learned of three more deaths — a cousin, a dear friend’s husband, and Jon’s godfather Dave Nelson (featured in two recent blog posts).
I see that this is not going to let up, this dying thing. I’m 80 years old now, and so are all of my high school and college classmates. My newspaper colleagues, most of them, are in the queue, not far behind.
People will be dying on me for as long as I have left to live. One real-life tear jerker after another will come my way over the next two, ten, twenty years.
A Father’s Words From Beyond
After my father died at age 78, my mother arranged for my brothers and me to see his body at the funeral home. That was a good thing. I was able to say the words I needed to say, a simple, “Good-bye, Dad.”
And in return I got a message from my father that surprised me. My father was a tough-minded, no excuses person, a realist — so I was surprised that his message to me was a kindly, reassuring one: “It’s OK to die.”
It’s OK to die.
Dying — It’s What We Do These Days
Dave McQueen died last September. Dave is — was — the kind of person you’d expect to be there indefinitely.
During the ’70s, Dave was a prominent radio personality here in the Bay Area. He delivered the news on KSAN-FM to his youthful listeners in a sonorous Texas drawl. His obituary in the San Francisco Chronicle called him “the Walter Cronkite of the counter-culture.” (Remember the counter-culture?)
Dave broadcasted the news. Jon wrote about it for Zodiac, his alternative news service. Dave subscribed to Zodiac. He was Jon’s muse. If Dave picked up and read one of Jon’s stories on the air, Jon’s day was made.
And now Dave McQueen is gone. So is Gordie Fox, a high school classmate who was the glue that held together the Birmingham, Michigan, High School class of 1959 and coaxed us to attend its reunions decade after decade.
A Mid-Century Cohort
We — our cohort — have been moving inexorable through the stages of life, one after the other. Like it or not.
Not so long ago, a decade or two, when our parents were still alive and growing frail, it fell to us to look after them. That is what we were doing then, we products of post-war, mid-century America. And there was a solace to it. If I was facing up to my mother’s failing capacities, I wasn’t the only one. I had company. Everybody was doing it. It’s what we did then.
And this is what we do now. Our parents are gone. It’s just us. And this is what we do — Dave McQueen, Dave Nelson, Jon Newhall and, one of these days, you and me. We die.
Everybody’s doing it.
Another dear friend I’d like to remember here: Mary Ann Hogan, a coworker during my years at the Oakland Tribune. Her husband, Eric Newton, also a Trib colleague, saw her book project to its completion after her death in 2019. (The book is about Mary Ann’s father, a San Francisco Chronicle colleague.) Its title — “Circle Way,”
Need to read something upbeat? Try “Small Boys — Reading, Writing and Yucky.” And, “I’m the Mother of the Groom — Now What Do I Do?”
Deb Martens says
I was not an Aquabelle, but recognize many in the picture. I enjoy your posts.
Debbie (Hutchings) Martens
Barbara Falconer Newhall says
But you were in the First Presbyterian Church choir, an alto, if I recall. Am I recalling right? The choir had a cool name — the Ceclian Choir.
Joann Davies brown says
Yes, I was in Aquabelles! So enjoyed it… I wish we girls could all get together for a reunion!
I am also 80 and healthy. My daughter found me in the pic without my help! (4 up and 5 over)
Hope to hear from all!
Barbara Falconer Newhall says
Joann, I checked the caption on the Aquabelles photo. You are in the upper right corner in the striped bathing suit. You can’t miss you! Kay Graber is next to you. I’m the one with glasses sitting next to Karel McCurry on the diving board.
Lindsey says
A thought-provoking and even somewhat uplifting post.
I like the look of the 1950s youth (the Aquabelles) much more than subsequent generations, including my own.
Pops and I reminisced about Uncle Jon today and thought of him as we played a chess game via phone. After reading your post, I like to think Dave McQueen and Uncle Jon are collaborating somewhere in the afterlife.
Barbara Falconer Newhall says
Yes. Jon and Dave McQueen were definitely kindred spirits when it came to reporting on the counterculture. They probably have a very nice perspective on it all from where they sit now.
Nancy Sanders says
Well said again, Barbara. The loss of my partner and spouse (one year on March 24th) has made this the worst year of my life. Your Jon and my Ralph were such good men, and we were so lucky to have had them in our lives. Your words have given me comfort, so thank you. Nancy
Barbara Falconer Newhall says
Thank you for letting me know that these posts have been helpful to someone besides me. Writing helps.
Ann Buchanan Teixeira says
Yes, it was so frustrating that we could not have a swim team to compete with other schools like the boys did! I lived across the street from Barnum and the boys’ team would let me take a lane to swim laps on Saturday mornings when they worked out there. I think I’m 6th from the left in row beneath the top row. I was a LOT better at swimming freestyle than doing water ballet!
Barbara Falconer Newhall says
Funny. I was a lot better at the synchronized swimming than at swimming. Except I did have a pretty good backstroke for some reason. With the Aquabelles, we had to work on breath control, which I think has probably served all well over the years.
Caroline Conroy says
I have enjoyed your articles. Thank you for posting. Caroline
Barbara Falconer Newhall says
Thank you, Caroline. Good to know!